


Enough of Youth and Recklessness

by eversingingleaves



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Genre: Gen, Parental!Roy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eversingingleaves/pseuds/eversingingleaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anonymous prompted "Parental!Roy and Edward" and somehow it turned into "Madame Christmas Happy Hour". I am not ashamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough of Youth and Recklessness

An empty glass flashed dully as it came to rest on the dark wood of the bar, drawing the attention of the bartender. Swathed in fine silks that had lost some of their luster through the years, the woman crossed to the dark-haired figure; the tinkle of her bangles chimed softly under the current of conversation that flowed around them.

“Another? Perhaps something a bit…younger?” Her voice was deep for a woman’s, but melodious just the same. The question was ostensibly about the age of the wine he’d been drinking, but she knew him better than he knew himself. They spoke a language all their own.

_Recruiting again, I see. This one worries you._

“Unless you have grapes back there…” He waved a negative hand and then ran his fingers through the messy ink-black mop atop his head.

“I think I’ve had enough of youth and recklessness for the time being.” The grass embedded in his boots and the train ticket in his pocket all spoke of recruitment, and the weary tilt of his shoulders spoke of fatigue. He glanced up at the Madame and sighed.

_A child. Barely old enough to snap his fingers, but skilled enough to set his family aflame._

She scoffed and snorted at him. “You’re barely a drink in and you’re already calling it a night? When I was your age…” A puff of cigarette smoke finished her sentence, inhaled through a long filter and exhaled to the side.

_You’re not so old yourself, Royboy. Children grow. You certainly did._

Mustang chuckled, a smirk pulling at his lips. Secret language or no, he couldn’t resist a jab at the woman who had adopted him.

“When you were my age, Xerxes was a blueprint.” He grinned at her and ducked, avoiding the inevitable cuff to the back of his head. And just like that, the tension faded- the two of them fell into familiar roles like shrugging on clothing made to fit. The Madame pretended to be offended, and Roy apologized most flamboyantly, bowing and scraping and quoting poetry until she threw him out into the night.

They were so  _young_ \- that’s what had shocked him the most. Brilliant and precocious and foolhardy and  _still children_. Onyx eyes had met golden brown and, for the first time of many, Roy wondered why such determination had to have such a high price. It was rhetorical, of course- he, of all people, knew how choices were made. Mustang understood people and how they worked; he had learned by watching the best play- and pour- hardball.


End file.
